


A Tale of Two Daniels

by Yahtzee



Series: UB Season Five: New York, New York [10]
Category: Ugly Betty
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Multi, Outing, UST, baby swap, catburglary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-20
Updated: 2011-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-19 15:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yahtzee/pseuds/Yahtzee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An intruder has appeared claiming to be the real Daniel Meade. Can our Daniel get to the bottom of this? And can Betty even find the time to help him, with her own family creating drama of their own?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale of Two Daniels

Daniel rewound the last sixty seconds, played it over again in his head, and still none of it made sense. “Excuse me – did you say you were Daniel Meade?”

The blond man standing in front of him nodded. From her place at Daniel’s side, Betty made a harrumphing sound. “Um, this is Daniel Meade. Right here. Ask anybody. Are we being Punk’d?” She glanced around, clearly looking for Ashton Kutcher. “Wait. Is that show even still on?”

“No camera crew will appear.” The other guy stepped a little closer. “But I admit, I should’ve brought a camera. I’d like a picture of this moment. Because after a lifetime of knowing that I wasn’t where I was meant to be, I’ve finally learned the truth. I’m Daniel Meade. And, in case you were wondering, you are … Chad Pulaski of Ozarkville, Missouri. Feel free to adopt that name whenever you feel like it, but I’m ready to start being called Daniel. Past ready.”

Chad the who of the where now? Daniel’s patience – already strained by his eagerness to be alone with Betty for a while – snapped. “This is nonsense. I’m about to call security.”

“Call them, please. I’ll call the media and we can let the whole world know what I’ve learned.”

When this Daniel – Chad – _Chaniel_ , he decided – when Chaniel called Fashion TV, they’d be surrounded by cameras and paparazzi for days. Which meant even less chance to have some private time with Betty. Daniel forced himself to take a deep breath. “You have five minutes.”

“We were born in the same hospital here in New York City, on the same day. Mr. and Mrs. Pulaski unwisely decided to take their big trip to the Big Apple far too close to her due date. Mr. and Mrs. Meade only allowed their child to go to the hospital nursery, like most newborn babies, but that was mistake enough. And some damn fool nurse made a switch she should never have made.”

“How would you even know that?” Betty demanded. Her voice echoed in the empty MODE office.

Chaniel smiled bloodlessly at her. “My lifelong sense of alienation. The inescapable sense that I had no purpose living where I lived or following in my father’s footsteps – and are you seriously going to say you never felt the same, oh other me?”

That … did not actually sound unfamiliar.

Even as the first qualm of uncertainty passed through Daniel’s mind, Betty squeezed his hand and insisted, “Everyone feels that way sometimes. It doesn’t prove anything.”

Chaniel continued, “And then Mrs. Pulaski, formerly known to me as ‘Mom,’ needed a bone marrow transplant a few years ago, and my blood was tested. Turned out I’m not genetically related to the people who raised me as my parents.”

“Okay, well, I guess that proves _something_ ,” Betty admitted. “But – there’s no way you can know you were switched with Daniel.”

“Yeah, right.” Daniel found his confidence returning. “I mean, it’s New York City. There could have been hundreds of babies in that nursery!”

“That day? There were twelve babies born in that specific hospital. Seven were girls. That leaves five boys. One of those boys was born prematurely and rather severely underweight, and he was whisked to an incubator. No confusing him with the others. And the two others were African-American and Asian.” Chaniel put his hands in his pockets and shrugged, even as his face settled into smug satisfaction. “That leaves you and me.”

Daniel re-counted in his head. The math was solid. Which meant – which meant –

Uh-oh.

Betty put her hands on her hips. “This is probably all a big story you’re making up for attention.”

“The truth will out, Miss – who are you, anyway?”

Daniel’s first impulse was to shout something like, _You can’t be Daniel Meade if you don’t know who Betty Suarez is._ It seemed obvious. “That’s none of your business,” he said instead. “You can’t prove anything you’re saying. People have lied to my family, about my family, plenty of times before now. I’ll hand it to you – you’re creative. But you’re just wasting my time.”

“I’m telling you the truth about yourself for the first time in your life, and you call it a waste.” Chaniel cocked his head to one side, still maddeningly calm. “Why don’t we take a blood test and see if those results match mine?”

From his jacket Chaniel withdrew a long grey envelope, which he waggled back and forth for just a moment before sliding it back into his pocket.

Though Daniel’s heart had begun pounding, he told himself it was just anger, that and his eagerness to get back to Betty’s apartment with her. “I don’t need to take a blood test to know who I am. If you have some proof you’re ready to share, share it. If not, don’t come back until you do. Now get out.”

Chaniel shrugged. “Until later.” With that he turned back to the elevators; the one he’d stepped out of still lingered on their floor, so the doors opened right away. That was good; the alternative would have been seriously awkward.

As soon as they were alone again, Betty said, “That was completely bizarre.”

“Totally.”

“Even by Meade scandal standards!”

“I know, right?”

“But you handled it very well.” She smiled so warmly up at him that his brain rewound back a whole half hour to remind him that Betty was back to herself, back with him, and that they were finally, at long last, together. “Nicely done, Mr. Meade.”

“Thanks.” Daniel slid his hands around her back. “Now what say we go back to our original plan for the evening and head to your place?”

Betty whispered, “That sounds amazing.” The anticipation he heard there sent a little thrill coursing through him.

If only he didn’t also feel lingering doubt …

**

There was more than one way to feel at home, Betty decided.

One way was actually remembering yourself – the way you’d grown and changed, all the things you’d accomplished. That one most people took for granted, but after her days with amnesia, she never would again. It felt amazing just being back in her own skin.

Another way was being back at your own apartment for the first time in more than a week … and a week that had felt like almost four years. Just having her own furniture around her, the shine of her cheerful yellow paint on the walls, gave Betty a level of comfort she hadn’t realized she’d missed.

And still another way – maybe the best way – was finally being alone with the guy you adored.

She and Daniel half-sat, half-lay on her little couch, wrapped around each other. His jacket was crumpled on the floor next to her discarded shoes and golf socks. She’d undone the top few buttons of his shirt, just enough to dip her hand inside and feel the broad expanse of his chest. So far, all her clothes were still on, but maybe not for much longer.

 _He can really kiss_ , she thought in a daze. _I mean, he ought to be good at it, he’s had enough practice, but wow._

Daniel cupped her face with one hand as his mouth slanted across hers, shallow now, so much so that their lips barely touched. He would do that – tease her for a moment, make her dizzy – before doing what he did now, crushing her to him and kissing her deep and wet.

As Betty wound her arms around his waist, she thought, _That is definitely years of practice at work. Or is it genetic? Maybe he was born an amazing kisser._

 _Maybe he was born – Chad Pulaski._

When their lips broke apart, she blurted out, “You’ve never had any weird genetic tests done, right?”

“I’d stopped thinking about it!” Daniel flopped beside her, clearly less angry with her and more frustrated. “Mostly.”

Why, oh, why, did her thoughts have to go there? “Sorry. It’s just kind of – obsession-adjacent.”

“Believe me, I know. How dare that guy show up and say anything so – so – ”

“Stupid.”

“Outrageous.”

“Ridiculous!”

“Yeah, that’s a good one. I like ridiculous.” Daniel cuddled her against his shoulder; one of his hands rubbed the length of her arm, a gesture clearly intended to comfort them both. Although only one lamp burned in her apartment, she felt as if it weren’t dark enough yet. It was hard to imagine them thinking about anything besides each other if they’d been lying together in the dark. “But if it’s so ridiculous, why can’t I get it out of my head?”

Betty smiled impishly up at him. “Maybe I haven’t tried hard enough to distract you.”

How she loved Daniel’s lopsided grin. “Oh, you’re pretty distracting.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” she whispered as she drew his face back down to hers.

Their kisses were even more fevered as she urged him on, willing him to forget everything besides the fact that they were finally together. She kissed him hard enough to blot out the memory of any other person, any other moment. Betty pressed her body against his, and Daniel responded by sliding his hand up her side until he caressed her breast – just a touch, just a moment, but the first time he’d moved closer to foreplay. Heat broke over her like a wave, and she arched into the caress. Daniel’s tongue dipped deeper into her mouth as he moved his hand down to her thigh and then pulled her leg up to curl against his waist. The hardness she felt against the curve of her leg made her heart nearly pound out of her chest.

 _This is it,_ Betty thought as she pulled the collar of his shirt further open. _Any minute now, we’re going to the bed, and then we’ll –_

“He just looked so much like Alex!” Daniel blurted out.

Sighing, Betty slumped back onto the sofa. “So much for distractions.”

“I’m sorry.” He flopped beside her, still breathing hard, but only looking up at the ceiling, as if the scene from earlier that night were projected onto it. “I was thinking that you and I are about to – and it’s the first time for us – and I was like, I’m even more nervous than I was my real first time, which was with a girl who actually liked Alex instead of me, so I was thinking about Alex, and that’s kind of when my brain went off-track.”

It was enough to make a girl scream, or cry. But Betty managed to remain calm and face the fact that either their first night together was ruined … or that this wasn’t their first night after all. That wasn’t so bad, was it? She took his hand in both of hers. “It’s all right. We’re preoccupied.”

“I’d rather be preoccupied with you.”

“Same here, but – it’s like I said before that con artist showed up. We don’t have to do everything tonight.” Betty snuggled next to him. “From now on, we have all the time in the world.”

Daniel kissed the tip of her nose. “You couldn’t be any more adorable.”

She turned her mind to the problem at hand. If this weirdo was the latest obstacle between her and Daniel, that was all the more reason to knock him out of the way ASAP. “Why did Alex make you think about Chaniel?”

“They looked alike. A lot alike.” He sighed. “And I thought that even before he said a word, so it’s not just my imagination running away with me.”

“Well, there are lots of tall blond guys in the world.”

“With high cheekbones, and the same kind of jaw, and my dad’s ears?”

“Sure. There was nothing weird about your father’s ears.”

“I guess not.”

He didn’t sound convinced. Betty knew that this doubt was only momentary; Daniel often tore himself up about little things even when he knew better. This distraction would linger until Chaniel’s claims were finally disproved. “So, if he ever shows up again, we demand to see his proof. He won’t have any. End of story.”

“What if he tells the media?”

“That would suck,” Betty admitted, “but it’s not like they haven’t gone crazy with fake stories about you before. A couple weeks ago, US WEEKLY said ‘Danielope’ was headed for the altar.”

Daniel chuckled softly against her hair. “I guess I just wish we had a little time without a crisis. You know? It’s been one thing after another ever since -- since – ”

“Since we met?”

“Good point.”

She pushed herself to sit upright, the better to look down at him all rumpled on her couch; it was a sight she hoped to see a lot more often from now on. “We’ll get through this. We always do.”

“I know.” He sat up next to her and ran one hand over his hair, which made him look only slightly less disheveled. “In fact, let’s make a deal. Let’s make a date.”

“Oh, yeah?” Betty couldn’t resist the grin spreading across her face.

“This weekend. I know you need to spend most of your time with your family, but we can grab one night, can’t we? By then, this Chaniel person will be just one more nuisance we had to deal with. You’ll be back at your job – the real one – ”

 _Oh, my God, everybody at the NYRB must think I’m a total flake_. She winced, but put it aside; she could start dealing with that tomorrow.

Daniel continued, “—and you and I should go out on the town.”

Over her shoulder, she said, lightly, “You wouldn’t rather stay in?”

“I’m liking this flirty side. We’ll go out and have fun. Then come back in and have more fun.” His voice was low and soft. “Once I’ve got my head back in the game. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Betty murmured, lifting her face to his for another kiss.

**

 _I don’t know where Daniel’s head is today, but it’s not in the game._

Wilhelmina tapped her fingers impatiently on the light table. “Well? Do we go with the honeysuckle or the coral shade for the background?”

“I guess I’m not really seeing the difference.”

Wilhelmina and Marc shared scandalized looks. Marc, who would have to count as the tactful one, cleared his throat. “Well, you see how the honeysuckle has more of an orange undertone?”

“I can see that the two colors aren’t the same,” Daniel huffed. “I just can’t see that one is any better than the other. Do you feel like brothers always have a strong family resemblance?”

“Hmmm. Are we talking the brothers Jonas?” Marc asked.

“Can we focus here?” Wilhelmina snapped. This morning meeting had already gone on a solid twenty minutes longer than scheduled. Any more delays and she’d have to cut short her lunchtime pedicure and foot massage, which was unacceptable given the heights she was seeing on wedge boots for autumn. “Both shades are lovely, yes. But we have to figure out which one is less likely to appear on the newsstand this fall. We want to stand out from the pack, not sink into the background.”

“Truer words were never spoken!” Although she knew Marc would have agreed with her at any time, his statement now had the extra emphasis that only a sling covered in silver sequins could provide.

Daniel shrugged. “The honeysuckle, I guess. That feels – fresh.”

“I entirely agree.” Wilhelmina began scooping proofs into a folder; normally this was the sort of task she kept Marc for, but even she could see that allowances had to be made after a gunshot injury. “Now that this is settled, why don’t you have Betty fetch you some coffee, or Red Bull, or some kind of stimulant shot reserved for heart attack victims and Lance Armstrong? Because you’re a zombie this morning, Daniel.”

“Sorry, Wilhelmina. I’m – distracted.” Daniel didn’t even bother snarking back. Sometimes he seemed determined to take all the fun out of everything. “And by the way, Betty remembered everything last night. She’s okay now. Thanks for playing along.”

As Daniel wandered out, so out of it that she half expected him to walk into a wall, Marc said, “Can I just share how completely annoying it is that I missed Betty’s Amnesia Extravaganza? I could have done the poncho costume _again_ for double impact! Chances like that come along once in a lifetime.”

“What am I doing here, Marc?”

Marc studied Wilhelmina warily, which she felt was only appropriate. “You are – looking fabulous?”

“Not what I was looking for.”

“Outshining that well-groomed imbecile, Daniel Meade!”

“Hardly a news flash.”

“Very kindly handling my paper-shuffling duties until I regain use of all my limbs?”

“Never mind. There is no answer that would satisfy me. The fact is, I don’t know what I’m doing here at MODE any longer. I haven’t known for quite a while.” Wilhelmina crossed her arms in front of her sea-green suit. The light from the meeting room windows glinted off her crystal earrings and Marc’s shimmery sling. “When I surrendered my quest for control of MODE, I decided to move on to something else. To begin my ascent to bigger and better things. Then Connor returned to my life, and, well – ”

“You’ve been spending less time thinking about the vertical, more time thinking about the horizontal,” Marc finished. He pursed his lips as he considered this mental image. “Daniel’s usually pretty good at covers, after years of learning from the master, of course. You don’t suppose something’s going on in Meadeland?”

“To hell with Meadeland.” Her old scheming instincts twitched like Anna Wintour’s eyelid at the sight of a designer knockoff, but Wilhelmina refused to acknowledge them. From now on, her goals were her own. “I’ve dicked around long enough. It’s time to come up with the master plan, Marc.”

“You mean ….?”

“Yes.” Wilhelmina tossed her hair. “From this day forward, I’m developing Wilhelmina Slater: Phase Two.”

Outside, thunder boomed.

“But – it’s sunny – ” Marc whispered as Wilhelmina strode back to her office.

**

“I can’t believe this weirdo phoned you,” Daniel said, sinking back into his chair with a groan. “Don’t panic, Mom.”

“Panic? Daniel, don’t be absurd. Remind me to tell you sometime about the sheer number of supposed illegitimate children and resurrected Fey Sommerses who’ve showed up over the years. For a while I considered putting in one of those take-a-number things at the back door of the mansion.”

Her crisp humor crackled even over the phone, and Daniel couldn’t help smiling a little. But the thought that Chaniel had already tracked down his mother was unnerving. Okay, the guy was only a con artist, but he was pretty freakin’ committed. “What if he’s dangerous, Mom? He could go totally stalker on us.”

“Entirely possible, but he strikes me as one of the ones who wants a quick payout. Not a genuine loony. But you never know. After all, Renee Slater seemed totally normal … at first.”

Daniel gave the phone receiver the look he would have directed at Claire if she’d been there. “Not cool, Mom.”

“All right, all right. Can you blame me for being relieved that I won’t be sharing my grandchildren with an Aunt Wilhelmina?”

This reminded Daniel that he hadn’t shared the good news about his relationship with Betty yet, and his mom would definitely want to hear. Her happiness would be worth bearing every single second of high-powered I-Told-You-So that would be coming his way. Before he could start, though, his call waiting chimed. “That’s Tyler on the other line. Hang on.”

“If I find out later that it’s Penelope Kerr, you’re in for it.”

Had he not even gotten around to telling her that Penelope was a lesbian? Shaking his head in disbelief, Daniel clicked over to the other line. “Tyler. What’s up?”

“What’s up is that I have some weirdo calling me claiming to be some other version of you,” Tyler said. “Is this the kind of crap you have to deal with when you’re rich?”

“Yes. Don’t let him get to you, okay? It’s just some con he’s trying to pull.”

“I figured. But why did he call me?”

That was a good question. Tyler was the newest member of the family, and not fully vested in most of the businesses they owned; a con man would have less to gain from him. On the other hand, maybe a con artist would assume that the newbie Meade would be the most likely to fall for any scheme. “What did he say to you?”

“That he wanted us to have a family meeting – tonight. Apparently he claims to have proof, though I’m not believing any evidence we don’t test and confirm ourselves.”

“You’re not such a newbie after all, huh?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Listen, Tyler, Mom’s on the other line, and I bet she’s going to tell me about the meeting, too.”

“So do we go ahead and get this over with?”

“Probably.” It wasn’t like he had plans for the evening anyway, Daniel thought; Betty had an overdue reunion with her family in Queens tonight, and his time would be better spent dealing with Chaniel for once and for all than lying around his apartment pining for her and probably spraining his wrist in the process. “We’ll face him down together, as a family. Go out for a celebratory burger afterward. Sound good?”

“Definitely.” Tyler’s voice sounded hesitant, though. “Hey, Daniel?”

“Yeah?”

“Just for the record – even if this were – not that it is, of course, but – as far as I’m concerned, you’re my brother. Period. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

That reassurance should have made him feel better, but instead it opened up another chink where the doubt could get in.

Daniel clicked back over to his mother, who also wanted to set up the meeting that night, for much the same reasons Daniel himself thought it was a good idea. But he could hardly hear her, because the doubt was buzzing too loudly in his brain.

**

Across the lunch table at Schnipper’s, Christina’s mouth had fallen slightly agape. It would have been funnier if they hadn’t been splitting an order of tater tots, Betty decided; the unchewed stuff in Christina’s mouth made it kind of gross. “Would you swallow already? Please. I’m trying to eat here.”

“You and Daniel?” Christina’s eyes narrowed. “A couple? For real? I can hardly believe it. Are you sure you’re entirely recovered from that head injury? Have you gone from amnesia to hallucinations?”

Betty wadded up her paper napkin and threw it at her. “For real. Daniel and I have been building toward this for a while, and now, you know – we’re together.”

Christina laughed, mostly out of astonishment, but there was a bit of sincere happiness mixed in there as well. “Good God! I have to say, I should’ve seen it coming. Thought him flying me over here just to tend to your scrambled memory, business class no less, was a bit over the top even for a Meade.”

“He overcompensates sometimes. But he’s come through for me in so many ways the past few months. Especially right after Dad’s heart attack. We’ve become closer than ever – and the romance kind of grew out of that. Though I think it’s been building even longer than I first realized, actually.” Betty popped another tater tot in her mouth with satisfaction.

“Daniel’s general intelligence and manners have been on a sharp upward slope ever since he met you, I admit, but never did I dream they’d rise so high. Well, congratulations to you both. Now tell me, are the tabloids true? Is he really hung like a polo pony?”

“Christina!” Betty glanced around, hoping nobody in the crowded cafeteria-style restaurant had overheard. “We’re right next to the _Times_ building. Can you not speak so loud about, you know, gossip things?”

In a soft whisper, leaning over the table, Christina repeated, “Is he really hung like a polo pony?”

“You’re terrible. First of all, I don’t discuss anything that private, and second – well, I wouldn’t know yet. We haven’t, um, taken that last step.”

“Whyever not? I should think that would be one pony you’d be in a hurry to ride.”

“It’s all still pretty new, and it’s been one crazy crisis after another the past few weeks. But it won’t be long.” Blushing, she added, “Before he stays over, I mean. The two of us being together – that’s going to last a long time.”

“Well, well. My little Betty’s twitterpated again.” Christina folded her hands beneath her chin, in a gesture that should have been teasing – but the warm affection in her eyes took away any potential sting. “I’m sorry I’ve got to fly back tonight. It would be fun to hang out in Manhattan a while longer and watch the sparks fly, but if I know Stuart and William, there’s not been a dish washed since I left, and new life forms are even now evolving in my sink.”

“Tonight I’m going out to Queens,” Betty said. “So you wouldn’t be missing any sparks anyway.”

“Queens? Betty, come on. You’ve got hot Meade manflesh waiting here for you. What are you going out to Queens for? There’s no way your father’s empanadas are that good.”

Betty had to laugh, but she protested, “I just spent days wandering around not remembering the past four years of my life, remember?”

“Like I could forget that red and purple combo from yesterday.”

Making a face – and being inwardly glad of the turquoise sheath she wore today – Betty continued, “Anyway, I need to reconnect with my family after that. Papi in particular. This can’t have been good for him, as fragile as his health has been.” With a sigh, she added, “Besides, Daniel has more Meade family melodrama to deal with right now.”

Christina frowned. “It’s not ugly, is it? Sometimes it is, with them.”

“Not this time.” She tried to speak lightly, but a shadow of the previous night’s frustration crept into her voice anyway. “It’s just a con artist at work, that’s all.”

And that ought to have been the end of it, but Christina had become serious now. For a moment, they were no longer in a crowded restaurant where dozens of tired journalists and commuters ate comfort food like hot dogs and mac-and-cheese; Christina no longer had her suitcases beside the table as evidence that she was on her way to the airport. They were alone, as close as they had ever been, sharing something really important. “I know you care for him,” Christina said. “And I know Daniel’s become a good man. But I also know you need to take care of yourself first. Don’t let all that Meade baggage drag you down. You’re too good for all that.”

“Nobody’s dragging me down,” Betty promised. “Least of all Daniel.”

“Good.” Christina nodded, and the solemn moment was broken with her wicked grin. “And you’ll let me know about the polo pony business as soon as you’ve gotten a handle on it? So to speak.”

“I threw my napkin at you too soon.”

**

 _So that’s why everybody makes such a big deal about sex_ , Justin thought.

He lay in Austin’s bed, languid and happy, feeling his boyfriend’s head on his shoulders and watching the ceiling fan’s blades make lazy circles overhead. His parents were both at work for hours to come, which meant they could even do this again if they wanted to. And Justin was pretty sure he wanted to.

“It’s kind of like walking over a bridge,” Austin said. His voice was very quiet. “And the bridge falls down behind you, so there’s no going back again.”

Justin rolled over to look at Austin. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just – this means it’s all real. You know?”

To Justin’s mind, the reality was the best part of it. The proof dreams could come true – but come to think of it, that was a little scary in and of itself. Okay, your dreams could be turned into your real true life; well, then, what did you choose to dream about? The potential was dizzying.

He intended to say this to Austin, and had rolled over to do so, which was why he saw the horror in Austin’s eyes when they both heard the front door open.

“Oh, shit.” Austin shoved himself out of bed in a mad lunge for his jeans. Justin wasn’t far behind. No, he wasn’t ashamed of being gay or loving Austin or anything else, but letting your boyfriend’s parents see you naked was the kind of thing you only did if you were on an MTV reality show.

They got their pants and shirts on before Austin’s mother opened the door. Even as the knob turned, Justin threw Austin a triumphant look. _See, we made it. Nothing to be afraid of. You’re safe while you’re with me._

But Austin was staring at the bed.

The unmade bed.

The really super rumpled bed that looked like it had just been used as a trampoline, which was not that far off the mark.

 _So what?_ Justin thought even as the door swung open. _Lots of guys don’t make their beds – I mean, I care about my Ralph Lauren linens, but I have standards, and most guys my age don’t. I bet Austin’s the same way –_

\--but Austin wasn’t the same way. His mother made that bed up every morning, hospital corners on the sheets, so tight that Justin had joked whether she was in the army once upon a time or something –

“Austin?” Mrs. Starkey said as she took in the scene. “What’s going on here?”

“Hi, Mom!” Austin’s words came out all in a rush, so obviously panicked that Justin’s heart hurt for him … even through his own panic. “Justin came by a couple minutes ago to hang out.”

Mrs. Starkey, expression slightly blank, turned slowly to look at Justin. After due consideration, Justin decided to play this one as cool as possible. “Hey,” he said, with half a shrug.

Austin, bouncing slightly on his heels the way he did when he got nervous, kept going. “Why are you home so early? Are you sick? If you need to lie down, you totally should.”

No explanation for Mrs. Starkey’s sudden appearance came. She said nothing.

It felt as if a thunderstorm were brewing right there in the room – clouds darkening light, distant thunder dimming sound. Justin felt as if his lunch was about to come back up. He kept looking from Mrs. Starkey to Austin and back again, at the silent conversation unfolding between them. Though neither mother nor son moved, it seemed as if they were farther apart each moment.

Justin had thought, before he came out, that he was afraid of what his mom would say. He knew she really loved him and that they’d be okay in the end – but what about before the end? How would they get there from here? Ultimately, of course, she’d been fine with it, just like the rest of his family.

He knew now though, nervous and agonized as he’d been, that he had never really been afraid of the worst. He’d never contemplated pure coldness, utter rejection, or even hate.

Only now, watching Mrs. Starkey and her son, did he realize that was truly possible – or that it could unfold before his eyes.

**

After being given a clean bill of health by Dr. Spaceman (“You’ll be right as rain in no time. Now, I’m off to my amateur taxidermy club! Say, seen any roadkill around?”), Betty found herself in Manhattan, in the middle of the afternoon, with nothing to do.

Which was as good an excuse as any to drop by MODE and see Daniel – not that she felt like she needed any excuse.

As Betty walked through the Tube toward the reception desk, she saw Amanda – still seated front and center – ignoring the ringing phones while she squinted down at her digital camera. To herself she muttered, “The Sleeping Tyler series just isn’t as much fun as the Sleeping Betty. Less drooly.”

“Amanda.” Betty rapped on the desk. “I’ve changed my locks. So no more Sleeping Betty.”

“Oh, hey, Betty.” Amanda gave her the big smile reserved for small children, and she spoke very slowly. “This is a CA-MER-A. It makes pictures, like paintings, but the pictures tell the truth, at least until you Photoshop them. Some people believe the pictures steal your soul, and that is _totally true_.”

Folding her arms, Betty said, “First, cameras came along way before 2006. Second, I have my memory back now.”

Amanda frowned. “Then I don’t get those earrings.”

“What?” Betty couldn’t resist putting her hand to her ear. What was wrong with orange dangles?

“If this little flashback has ended, then I need to get back to the glittering world of fashion styling.” Amanda pushed back her rolling chair and walked away from the reception desk, phones still ringing. “I think Marc said they needed somebody to de-lint the tweeds.”

“You can’t just leave like that!” The protest was to no avail – and was probably pointless, Betty realized, given Amanda’s laissez-faire attitude toward taking calls.

But somebody needed to know there was no longer anyone at reception. Somebody, say, such as the editor in chief.

The latest of Daniel’s temp assistants was apparently running errands, which meant she was able to get all the way to his office door while he still looked down at the papers on his desk. “So,” she said. “You’re taking your time hiring a new assistant.”

He looked up, and the dawning surprise and pleasure on his face made her feel deliciously gooey inside. “Some people are impossible to replace.”

“Damn straight.”

They crossed the room together, meeting in the middle for a kiss – quick, but one that set her skin tingling. Daniel held her hands against his chest as he said, “You didn’t text me.”

“I wanted to surprise you.” She’d seen him this way hundreds of times – shirt sleeves rolled up, tie slightly loosened, a smear of red editor’s pencil on one of his fingers – but it had never seemed as deliciously sexy to her before.

“The doctor’s report was good?”

“Totally good.”

“And you’re okay at your job?”

“Yeah. I wanted to go in this afternoon, but Jackson insisted I take the day. Since he wants to see a draft of my new story ASAP, I can use a few hours to write, actually.” Betty beamed up at Daniel. “But I had time to say hello.”

“I needed to see this face.” Daniel’s fingers brushed her cheek. The tenderness of the gesture didn’t distract her from the dark shadows beneath his eyes, or the tension in his frame. Probably he hadn’t slept a wink last night. The whole fake-Daniel thing was still bothering him – and still shadowing their brand-new relationship.

But Betty knew it was most important to think of his feelings first. She took his hands in hers. “You look like a guy with Chaniel on his mind.”

“Betty, he called Mom. And Tyler. He’s demanding a ‘family meeting’ tonight. Mom says we should just get it over with, shoot the guy down at once, but – ”

“But what? It sounds like a good plan to me.”

Daniel shrugged. “He just seems so – sure.”

“Don’t let this guy play mind games with you, Daniel.”

“I know I shouldn’t,” he said miserably. “But the thing with mind games is – they work on me. They just do. You could psych me out into believing I was, like, Swedish, or meant to be a ballroom dancing instructor, or anything. And I know this about myself, but they _still_ work! I hate it.”

“Well, then, it’s for the best that you’re doing the family meeting all together,” Betty reasoned as she caressed his hand. “There’s no way Chaniel can confuse you and your mother and Tyler at once. The three of you will face him down, and he’ll slink away with his tail between his legs.”

He gave her his best puppy-dog eyes, which were pretty amazing. Real puppy dogs would give in to that look. “Any chance you could be there too? Just for the first little while, I mean. You’re better at this than anyone.”

“What is ‘this’ in our scenario?”

Daniel thought about it for a second. “Either holding my hand or defeating evil.”

“Not a bad skill set.” They kissed again, briefly. Betty couldn’t help glancing to one side to see whether they were being observed through the glass wall open to the whole office, but nobody seemed to be around; probably the latest batch of swag had just appeared in the Closet.

Should she do it? If the meeting was early enough, she could probably help Daniel face the guy down and still get to Queens in time for dinner. It would be satisfying to see the smirk wiped off this guy’s face, particularly after he’d messed up their romantic mood the night before.

Yet Betty remembered Christina’s advice. Getting dragged into Meade family drama often meant getting dragged down.

She said carefully, “I think it’s important for me to be with my family tonight. And I think you sometimes need to remember how good you are at dealing with stuff without me there holding your hand.”

He thought it over before saying, “Go home to your folks. We’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s important for me to be with my family tonight too,” Daniel said, new assurance in his voice. “Like you said, we’ll deal with this together. It’ll bring us closer. And if I expected you to hold my hand every time things got crazy with my family, well, we’d never let go.” He smiled a little as he leaned forward. “Even though that doesn’t sound so bad.”

She whispered, “You’re my favorite Swedish ballroom dancing instructor ever.”

They kissed again, even briefer than the last time, but that was enough to quicken her heartbeat. When they parted, she could see the eager flush on Daniel’s face and knew he was as turned on as she was.

Although they let go of one another – she didn’t intend for their first time to be on his desk, though that was a fun mental image for later – Daniel said, “How can it not be the weekend yet? How is this only Wednesday?”

“Maybe you can deal with this whole Chaniel thing tonight,” Betty suggested. “Then tomorrow’s Thursday, and you know what they say.” In unison, they completed the rest: “Thursday is the new Friday.”

They both laughed, and Daniel said, “You’re on.”

“I just hope it all gets straightened out – ” Betty frowned as she realized Daniel’s attention had wandered from her to something in the office outside. “What?”

“I think it’s all going to get straightened out,” he replied, a slow smile dawning.

Betty turned just in time to see Alexis Meade charge through the door wearing a white, skintight sheath and an expression of murderous rage. “Okay, where’s this little jackal who’s spreading lies about my brother?” Alexis said. “Because he needs to know that this family only has room for one bitch – and she’s back.”

**

“Alexis!” Daniel caught his sister in his arms, gladder to see her than he’d been since her return from the dead as a girl … and given that he’d actually been hitting on her then, this was better on pretty much every level, including the Freudian. “You didn’t say anything about coming back to the States.”

“That’s because I only decided last night, when I was woken up by some idiot who thinks he’s you and doesn’t seem to care about the time zone differences between France and New York.” Alexis might have stepped out of a beauty salon instead of a transatlantic flight; her hair and makeup were perfect. Not a smudge darkened her alabaster dress, and if age had dared change her appearance in the years since he’d seen her, she’d obviously spent the money to change it back. “So I chartered a flight first thing this morning. I wanted to be here when we shoot this guy down.”

“See?” Betty’s face was alight with that thing she did when she’d just been proven right, which was a whole lot cuter on her than it was on most people. “Family togetherness. It’s your secret weapon.”

“Not usually,” Alexis said, “but it’s what we’ve got to work with. Hi, Betty. I thought you weren’t working here anymore. Did I get that wrong?”

“Nope. I was just saying hello. Good to see you, Alexis – but why don’t I give you guys some time to chat?” Betty headed for the door; Daniel didn’t like seeing Betty go, but it wasn’t for long.

“I’ll text you later,” he promised.

“Okay,” Betty said. “Or call. We’ll talk. Bye.” She gave him one of those amazing Betty smiles as she went, one of the ones that reminded him of the sun’s rays shining through clouds. Daniel waved after her, and he knew his expression was so goofy that his sister would no doubt call him out on it.

But she was as distracted as he’d been earlier, so he got away with it. Alexis paced the length of his office, her size-12 Louboutins heavy on the carpet. “What is this guy’s game, anyway? He can’t think we’re stupid enough to fall for this.”

“It’s a shakedown. That’s all. Tonight he’ll ask for money, and we’ll figure out how to discredit him if he tries to talk to the media.” Daniel said this with more confidence than before. His sister had often attempted to destroy him – but she was about to unleash her Daniel-destructive powers on the fake Daniel, and he couldn’t wait to see the resulting bloodbath. Alexis! It was like having a secret weapon. Or secret ninja powers. He’d been thinking a lot about being a ninja lately. Maybe he should ask Betty about Tae Kwon Do. That train of thought swiftly derailed as he saw that Alexis hadn’t come alone. “D.J.?”

“Daniel!” His nephew – almost a foot taller than he had been, sun-bronzed and more a young man than a child – flung himself into Daniel’s arms. “We came to see you.”

“About time.” He gave D.J. a hug that involved lots of rocking back and forth. His heart ached a little, never forgetting the too-brief months when he’d believed this to be his son. “How long can you stay?”

“School is out, so, we can see. Grandmere and Grandpere don’t mind.”

“Speaking of grandparents, why don’t you find your grandmother upstairs?” Daniel said. “She’s going to be thrilled to see you.”

“Do you think she will take me to Dave & Buster’s again?” This had been D.J.’s single favorite about the United States, Daniel recalled.

“Worth a shot.” He playfully swatted D.J. on the shoulder, sending him out the door and toward the HOT FLASH offices. Daniel sincerely hoped his nephew wouldn’t walk into an editorial meeting on which sexual positions were best during face lift recovery; that had happened to Daniel once, and he was still slightly freaked by hearing his own mother utter the words “doggie style.”

As D.J. loped off, Alexis murmured, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“That.” She pointed after D.J., her face wistful. “How is that so – easy for you?”

“It wasn’t easy, at first.”

“Well. We’re way after ‘at first,’ and I’m just – I don’t know.” As she folded her arms across her chest, Alexis confessed, “It’s like the only parent I know how to be is our dad. Which kind of leaves something to be desired, you know?”

Although Daniel had made his peace with his difficult memories of his father, he had to admit Alexis had a point. “You’ll get the swing of it. He’s a great kid.”

“He is. I’m just not a great … mom-dad. See, there’s not even a word for what I am.”

“That’s because the language is still catching up with trailblazers like you.” Daniel didn’t put his arm around Alexis, just stood beside her and nudged her with one shoulder. “And we’ll be hanging out all summer, so you can watch the master in action.”

She arched an eyebrow, but a small smile had reappeared on her face. “The master?”

“At Dave & Buster’s whack-a-mole, anyway.”

That made her laugh, and Daniel felt a new surge of confidence. Maybe this Chaniel thing was a blessing in disguise. His whole family was together again, for real, united as almost never before. He might get the entire summer with D.J., which would rock. And now his date with Betty was one day closer.

They’d beat this thing, Daniel decided. Together.

**

At the salon, Wilhelmina and Marc sat side by side in pedicure chairs, their feet sealed in paraffin for maximum softness, while aromatherapy candles filled the air with lavender and Enya-wannabe music played. Normally she went to such appointments alone, but she decided Marc deserved a small treat for narrowly escaping death.

Besides, his good arm had escaped injury, which meant he could still take notes.

“All right,” she said. “We’ve been brainstorming for half an hour. Show me the list.”

Marc held up the scratch pad.

 _Career options:_

 _Fashion TV network personality  
Ambassador to nation best known for resort life  
Benevolent dictator  
Feared dictator  
Marriage into lesser European royalty_

“Well, they all have their advantages,” she said, drumming her newly manicured nails on the padded arm of her chair. “But there are invariably certain barriers to entry.”

“Fashion TV would have you in an instant –”

“That would put me in a position where I’d be lower in seniority than Suzuki St. Pierre.” Wilhelmina would have wrinkled her nose in distaste if the Botox had allowed it. “Put that option behind glass with a sign that says ‘break only in emergency.’”

“Okay, then, why lesser royalty?” Marc said. “Why not think big? Go Windsor? Prince Andrew’s a bit skanky, but hey, that just makes it more likely you could keep Connor on the side.”

“And be condemned to those freakish hats the English royals wear? Forget it.” But really, Wilhelmina couldn’t imagine romancing anyone else while Connor was in her life. Just because she’d finally remembered he wasn’t her whole destiny didn’t mean she now intended to leave him behind. “The dictatorships – tempting, and I do have the shoe closet to manage the full Imelda. But taking over a nation would probably involve actually living there, at least most of the time.”

“Like you could ever abandon a co-op on the park,” Marc scoffed, drawing an emphatic line through each of the dictator entries.

“What can I say? I’m a New York City girl.” Could New York be brought under the power of a dictatorship? Mayor Bloomberg certainly seemed to think so. But that would involve also ruling over the Bronx, which was too déclassé to be borne.

Marc put one finger to the corner of his mouth, considering. “This ambassadorship thing seems doable. I mean, you are a senator’s daughter, and you always give generously to both presidential candidates just in case.”

“Possibly.” However, Wilhelmina had started to read between the lines at Wonkette – the rumors swirling about an upcoming ethics probe were beginning to hint more strongly about her father. Soon, his private concerns might become a very public mess, and the likelihood of her trading on his political capital would turn remote.

But if she acted fast, it might be possible. A simple post in some untroubled nation. Surely being the U.S. Ambassador to Bermuda couldn’t be that time-consuming. The biggest diplomatic issue to deal with was probably whether to order a pina colada or a daiquiri at the beachside receptions.

And the thought of Connor wearing a swimsuit more often made her smile.

“You’re really going to leave, aren’t you?” Marc sounded wistful. “It’s hard to imagine MODE without you. Or you without MODE.”

“For me too,” she admitted, wriggling her toes slightly within their waxy cocoon. “I’ll forever believing that running MODE was my first, best destiny. But let’s face it. Print is dying – and I am very much alive.” Wilhelmina couldn’t resist a smile. “Bye bye, Meade.”

**

“Okay. Game plan time.” Alexis folded her arms as she called the family meeting to order. Daniel couldn’t help noticing how – less than five hours since her plane’s touchdown in New York – Alexis had already reclaimed the position of leader of the whole clan. It didn’t bother him, though. In this situation, some pit-bull attitude was called for, and Alexis was definitely the pit bull of the family. (He saw himself as somewhere between Boston terrier and beagle.) “Our goal here is to put him on the defensive, immediately. He’s got nothing, and he knows it. The trick is to show him that we know it too.”

“I don’t want him going to the press,” Daniel said. “We’ve lived out every other drama in public. I’m tired of it.”

With a stern look, Alexis said, “If you can’t hack the tabloids anymore, Danny, maybe you should just pack it in for Ozarkburg or wherever it is this jerk is supposed to be from.”

“Ozarkville,” Daniel, Claire and Tyler all said in unison.

“Whatever.” Alexis shrugged. “Come on. We eat tabloids for breakfast. It’s what we do. You’ve dealt with worse than this, right?”

Daniel nodded, particularly remembering the entire Sofia Reyes fiasco. But he’d never relished those battles the way his sister and parents sometimes did. Now that Betty was entering his life, he felt a stronger urge than ever toward a normal, undisturbed, tabloid-free existence. In other words, an existence Betty would want to be a part of.

Was that maybe a very … Chad Pulaski point of view? He tried to banish the thought, without much success.

 _Come on! Drama! That’s what our family does! You know you love it._

He didn’t, though.

“I understand Daniel’s reluctance to have this turn into the latest Suzuki St. Pierre news flash,” his mother said, one hand resting on his forearm. “And while Tyler’s being too good to mention it, any publicity we attract right now runs the risk of revealing the identity of his father. When that hits – it’s going to get even messier than it already is.”

The mere thought of Victoria Hartley’s upcoming sanity hearing made Daniel want to sink beneath the conference room table and hide. He wished for Betty; if she were by his side, bright and cheerful and determined, none of this would be getting to him the same way. But he needed to be a grown man about the situation. Deal with it himself. Maybe by hiding. _No._ He could do this.

All the same, he’d rather have been at Dave & Buster’s with D.J. and Yoga, even if Yoga probably could kick his ass at whack-a-mole.

Bang on cue, Chaniel walked into the meeting room, wearing Hugo Boss so well-tailored that Daniel looked down worriedly at his own limp cuffs. Alexis breathed in sharply, and Mom went very still; he knew they’d seen the same remarkable resemblance to Alex. Whether or not they’d felt any moment of doubt before, they did now. And just that one moment seemed to gape open as a well deep and dark enough for Daniel to fall into.

“I gave the name ‘Chad Pulaski’ at the door,” Chaniel said. “Only way to get inside, of course. But as far as I’m concerned, I left it there. That one –” He pointed at Daniel. “—can pick it up on his way out.”

“The only one on his way out is you,” Alexis retorted. She was clearly ready to unload on the guy, and Daniel was more than ready to see it, but somebody else in the room was having a totally different reaction.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Tyler stood up from behind his desk. “I know you.”

 _It’s just because he looks like Alex,_ Daniel wanted to say – but that didn’t make any sense. Tyler never met Alexis as Alex. So why was he staring at Chaniel the same way Daniel first had, like he’d seen a ghost?

Pointing at Chaniel, Tyler said, “He – this guy – he was at Horizons. In our group meetings. He never said much so I didn’t recognize the voice, but – it’s him.”

“I’d been watching the family for a while,” Chaniel said. “Wondering when it would be the right time to make my approach. When I heard about your little relapse, I decided a couple weeks at Horizons would do me good.”

“You snake.” Mom’s hands were spread across the conference-room table as if she wanted to lunge across it. “You violated the privacy of a substance-abuse recovery group just to learn how to manipulate my family.”

“I did what I had to do.” Chaniel took a seat at the table – as if he were already a part of the Meade family. “Look at it this way – all those awkward secrets you would have had to tell me anyhow? I already know. I won’t serve you a drink, Mrs. Meade – and let me know when you think ‘Mom’ would be appropriate.”

She smiled back at him, not sweetly. “How about never?”

Daniel understood their outrage and could sympathize with it, but something else was tugging at him. Chaniel had been planning this intigue for a long time. He’d done whatever it took to make it happen, no matter how ruthless. And he’s waited for the perfect moment to strike.

All of that was a very – Meade way to behave. Exactly what Dad would have done. Exactly what Alexis would have done. Even Mom could scheme on this level when she thought the occasion called for it. Tyler hadn’t pulled anything like this yet, but he had held their mother at gunpoint one time, which suggested he had the ruthlessness gene, even if it was mostly dormant.

The only one in this room who lacked the ruthlessness gene was Daniel himself.

“So now you’re threatening to blackmail us.” Alexis remained standing, using every inch of her considerable height to loom over Chaniel. “Doesn’t sound like a guy who’s only looking for a family.”

“I’ve never had much use for family,” Chaniel said, as casually as if he were explaining that he didn’t want sugar in his tea. “Money, on the other hand, I can use.”

“It was only about money all along.” Daniel didn’t exactly feel relieved yet, but at least this was something concrete to deal with. “Why didn’t you just blackmail us to begin with? Why go through this whole charade?”

“Because it’s not a charade, _Chad_.” Chaniel’s eyes narrowed. “And blackmail isn’t among my interests. Even if it were, do you have any idea how much of your dirty laundry is already public? The lot of you are almost blackmail-proof. I’m not interested in shaming you. I only want what’s rightfully mine.”

Mom, apparently determined to keep this civilized, poured them all glasses of water from the nearby pitcher – even Chaniel. “What, precisely, do you define as ‘rightfully’ yours?”

“I’m sure most of the legal documents involved in the family holdings list a ‘Daniel Meade’ as the owner of a considerable amount of wealth. Since that’s me – ”

“Get real,” Tyler scoffed.

Chaniel gave Daniel an easy, infuriating smile. “I’m not suggesting we impoverish the imposter. Only fair to leave you a reasonable amount to get by on, and I suppose you might as well stay on at Meade, as I have no interest in the magazine industry. But I want what’s mine. And I suspect a court will agree that it’s mine, given who I really am.”

“You talk and talk about who you really are,” Alexis said, “but you haven’t offered us any proof.”

“My proof is a DNA test. It was easy enough to walk into Tyler’s room at Horizons and pull a few hairs from his comb – and I wanted a maternal match, anyway, so you’d know I wasn’t just some Bradford bastard.” Chaniel glanced back at Daniel, cool and confident. “You saw the envelope, and if you’d been polite at the time, I’d have shown you the results right away. Your reaction – and this meeting – have convinced me to leave the papers in my hotel safe for the time being.”

Alexis said, “No proof, no conversation. This meeting is done.”

Chaniel merely shrugged as he took a sip of water. “I suspected as much. My lawyers will call about the time and place for our next meeting. And then – we’ll see.”

“You’ll have skipped town by then,” Tyler predicted.

“We’ll see,” Chaniel repeated as he rose and strolled out of the room.

Once he was out of earshot, Mom triumphantly seized his water glass around the stem. “Did you know you leave trace amounts of saliva on the lip of a glass? Enough for a DNA test?”

“Mom, you’re brilliant!” Alexis laughed as Tyler hugged their mother, and Daniel forced himself to smile.

But, non-schemer though he was, something about that envelope was bothering him. Something his family’s jubilation couldn’t easily wipe away –

**

“Do we have to stop here?” Connor muttered as they walked toward the Meade Publications building.

Wilhelmina sighed and patted his arm. “I left the bracelet that goes with these earrings in my desk. You wouldn’t have me go out practically naked, would you?”

“I might, actually.” His wolfish grin sent a thrill of anticipation through her. “Be the biggest treat the people of New York ever had.”

She kissed him quickly, then wiped the smear of deep red lipstick from his mouth. “Wait here. I’ll only be – a – minute – ” Her voice trailed off as she glanced toward the Meade building, and next to her, she felt Connor tense as he glimpsed what she saw.

The whole Meade clan, complete with a newly returned Alexis, was coming out of the offices significantly after hours. And in Claire’s hands was something plastic –

Wilhelmina whispered, “Is that an _evidence bag_?”

“No schemes,” Connor said firmly. “That’s what you wanted. What you made me promise. That means not asking crazy questions about what they’re doing.” Their eyes met, and for a long moment, they were silent. Then he added, more quietly, “Doesn’t it?”

Was he probing how serious she was? Wondering whether she could be drawn back into their old intrigues? The desire for Meade Publications – and the desire to drag that family down – flickered inside her, like the yearning for a flattering piece of clothing that was no longer in style. God, how she sometimes missed asymmetrical belts …

A man who’d been loitering on the nearby corner turned to go, nearly walking into her and Connor in the process. “Excuse me,” he said politely, looking from one to the other before heading on his way.

 _My God – that man looks just like Alex Meade, pre-op version –_

“Let’s go,” Wilhelmina said quickly as she took Connor’s arm once more. “Forget the bracelet. Forget all of it.”

“Willie – ”

“Forget it,” she repeated. But her heartbeat pounded the entire way to the restaurant, and not only from the excitement of having Connor near.

**

Betty had envisioned her family homecoming celebration as a gentle, sweet evening. She’d do the cooking so Papi could finally sit down and relax the way he needed to. Justin and Austin would be there, all gooey with young love, which would probably make her look a little less gooey by comparison. After letting Hilda share some more gushing stories about how wonderful marriage was, Betty would finally get a chance to tell her sister about her new relationship with Daniel. Everything would be perfect.

“Dad, if I hear one more pan rattle in that kitchen, I’m coming in there!” Hilda shouted.

“I’m making empanadas, and nobody’s going to stop me!” Their father replied. “You can’t keep a man out of his kitchen forever. It’s inhuman!”

Although Betty wanted to rush in there and stop him, she was too distracted by what Hilda had just confided in her – which was not gushing about marriage. “Bobby’s in the Mob? Oh, my God, Hilda!”

“Not in the Mob. Just kind of … partnered with them. I guess. The way Herbalife was partnered with that company that sold the weight-loss bracelets on TV. Until it turned out the bracelets chafed people’s skin off.” Hilda curled her feet under her on the sofa, hugging herself despite the heat of the summer evening. “And now I think we’re out of it, but I don’t know for sure. Cousin Eddie swears that last drop off we did together is the last time.”

“Cousin Eddie? The guy who ate most of the wedding cake?” Betty replayed what Hilda had just said and gasped. “Wait, the drop off you did together? You did something for the mafia?”

Hilda bit her lower lip. “It was something we could do together as a couple?”

“That was not a smart move! The cops could arrest you!” Betty looked out the window, half afraid squad cars would come screeching up at any moment to release policemen brandishing guns, but saw someone very different. “Well, thank goodness. Justin’s finally here.”

Hilda bounced up in a second, either in maternal eagerness or her desire to escape the scolding Betty was giving her. “Where have you been, kiddo? You haven’t texted me in hours. I was starting to think you ran off and joined the circus.” But as she opened the door and Justin came in – head hung low, clearly distraught – Hilda gasped. “Justin! What’s the matter?”

“Austin’s mom found out about us,” Justin said. His voice was thick and ragged; Betty realized he’d been crying. “She didn’t even know he was gay. Now she hates him and she hates me, and Austin’s run off, and I don’t know where he is. Mom, he’s upset. He shouldn’t be alone, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, honey.” Hilda wrapped Justin in her arms, and Betty did the same. “Are you okay?”

Justin just nodded as they sat down. From the kitchen, Papi called, “How many more empanadas am I making?”

“None, because I’m not hungry, Austin’s not here and you need to eat your wheat crackers,” Justin called. He slumped backwards on the sofa, and Betty was startled to see how much older he looked – as if this day alone had changed him from a boy to a young man.

She took his hand. “Austin will call you when he’s ready. I’m sure.”

“I don’t know, Aunt Betty. He could do something desperate.” That was a phrase he could only have picked up from a soap opera, Betty thought, but she didn’t doubt Justin meant it. “His mother – she was so horrible. She said we were evil and sick.”

“That bitch!” Hilda put her hands on her hips. “What kind of a mom acts like that?”

“She threw us both out of the house. She told Austin not to come back until he was ‘ready to stop this.’ Which means to stop existing, basically. I wanted Austin to come here with me, but he wouldn’t. We rode into Manhattan on the train but then he got out at Times Square without me. I tried to follow him, but it was rush hour. He got lost in the crowd.” Justin’s dark eyes welled with tears. “He’s not answering his phone. I’m so freaked.”

“Maybe he just needs some time,” Betty said, though she felt a tremor of real fear. That poor kid. “You know that when he calms down, he’ll come straight here. Austin knows he has a home with us if he needs it.”

Hilda was pacing back and forth now. “How did she find out, anyway? Did she go through his text messages or something?”

“She walked in on us just after – ” Justin’s voice trailed off. Much more quietly, he said, “In his room.”

Hilda straightened, her eyes widening. “Wait a second. Wait a second. Are you telling me – my baby’s had sex?”

“Oh, God, my ears.” Justin clapped his hands over them. “Can we not have this conversation now?”

“Maybe this isn’t the time,” Betty agreed, cheeks burning with embarrassment for her nephew.

“This isn’t the time for a mere child to be having sex!” Hilda insisted.

Justin shot back, “You were only one year older than me when you got pregnant!”

 _And she didn’t get pregnant her first time,_ Betty thought – since she and Hilda shared a bedroom wall, she had been far too informed about her sister’s love life at a very early age. But she doubted either Justin or Hilda would welcome the details at this point.

“Jesus, hear him.” Hilda turned her eyes to the ceiling. “You think my example is such a great example? Dad could hardly take it back then! Now? You’re going to kill your grandfather!”

“Empanadas won’t kill me!” Papi called from the kitchen, mercifully overhearing only that sliver of the conversation.

“News flash: pregnancy is not something we have to worry about in my situation, okay?” Justin groaned as he put his face in his hands.

Hilda paused mid-lecture, one long acrylic nail to her lips. “Oh, that’s a good point. That goes in the ‘pro’ column for sure. I gotta mention that to Mrs. Starkey after I get done pounding her in the face.”

Betty’s cell phone went off, and she looked down to see Daniel’s face next to the incoming number. “I’m going to take this, okay? I’ll be right back, Justin.”

“We’re all right,” he said. Tired and sad as he was, his smile up at his mother was gentle. “I don’t think she’s going to physically hurt me.”

“Don’t count on it, buster.” But Hilda sat beside her son and wrapped him in her arms.

Betty took the phone to the front steps. As she shut the door behind her, she said, “How did it go?”

“Not awful. Not good, but not awful.” Daniel spoke too quickly, the way he did when he was trying to move past a difficult subject. “Enough about my family craziness for a while, though. How are you?”

He was trying so hard not to drag her down in the drama – exactly the thing she’d been worried about him doing earlier today – but now Betty could see just how ridiculous they’d both been. The past few minutes had reminded her that the Suarezes had their own huge amounts of drama; yeah, it wasn’t on quite as grand a scale as the Meade stuff, but it was just as wild, just as crazy and just as inescapable.

Caring about someone meant caring about their crazy, sometimes. If Daniel had proved capable of dealing with her family’s insanity – and he had – then she’d just have to do the same.

“No rushing past the subject,” Betty said gently. “Tell me about it, Daniel. I want to know.”

Daniel sighed. “It went like you’d expect. He wants money, Alexis told him to stuff it, and Mom sneaked a DNA sample. She can send it off for testing tomorrow.”

“That’s great!” She hesitated. “You don’t sound like it’s great.”

“There’s just one thing. Chaniel didn’t bring that envelope he showed off to us. He says it’s DNA results of his own test – he sneaked into Tyler’s rehab and got a hair sample.”

“Cold.”

“Just like Dad,” Daniel said roughly. “Anyway, Chaniel didn’t show it to the family tonight.”

Betty shrugged as she sat on the stairs. “No wonder. It’s fake.”

“Think about it, Betty. If it’s fake, why didn’t he show it to us? You only make a fake document to show it to people, to try and get them to believe you. If you hold something back, it’s because you think it’s valuable. The only way that document is valuable is if it’s real.”

That made a scary amount of sense. But there were other, more rational explanations. “Or he doesn’t even have a fake document. I bet it’s just some junk mail he got. An offer for a credit card.”

“Maybe.” Daniel sounded even more glum than before. “I just can’t shake it. Mom can’t even send the test until tomorrow, which means we’d find out Saturday at the earliest. Until then, I’m going to be insane. I wanted to warn you. Tomorrow night’s date – we’re going out, okay? And we’re going to have fun. But I’m still going to be insane about it. You deserve better, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. We all have drama to deal with sometimes. The point is to deal with it head-on.” A slow smile spread across Betty’s face. “Did I ever tell you – I kind of have a catburglar fantasy?”

He was silent for a moment before saying, “This conversation is definitely taking a turn for the better.”

“There was some old movie or show I watched on TV as a kid that always stuck with me. The man and woman had to sneak in somewhere to steal something together, and they were both wearing black and tiptoeing around, and you just knew they wanted so badly to make out but they had to wait until the heist was over. And of course there was the danger of getting caught. Very sexy.”

“So, are we going to try this tomorrow night?”

“Uh-huh.”

Daniel chuckled softly. “Okay, that might keep me from being distracted. Wow, Betty. I never figured – fantasy role-play – this is going to be hot, isn’t it?”

“This isn’t a fantasy, Daniel. This is reality.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t get me wrong. Let’s do the fantasy thing sometime.” She glanced around, afraid to be overheard – because she was now talking about breaking the law. “But tomorrow night, we’re doing this for real. We’re finding that envelope of Chaniel’s, and we’re stealing it. Together.”

**

Justin managed to get through the sex talk with his mother only because he was able to convince her not to put a condom on a banana.

The rest of the night was one long blur to him: Grandpa insisting on nibbling half an empanada, Elena taking the other half from him and holding it over his head until sauce dripped out on them both, Mom staring at Justin like she could see loss of virginity on his face like a zit, and Aunt Betty trying to make cheerful neutral conversation about topics everybody could enjoy, such as Lady Gaga.

All he could really hear was the sound of Mrs. Starkey’s voice: _What have you done to my boy? What have you made him do?_

She was talking about being gay, like it was something that happened because of peer pressure. But the words still stung, because to Justin it had become a totally different accusation. Austin had tried to stay in the closet. He’d always been more hesitant, more cautious. Justin had always acted like that was a personal rejection. Now he could see that Austin’s fears had been based in real knowledge of just how sucky his parents could be.

Now his boyfriend was wandering around New York City on a hot, sticky night with nowhere to go.

 _He could go home,_ Justin thought. _He could go home if he told his mother he was sorry, that he’d never do it again, that he’ll go to one of those weirdo camps that supposedly teach you not to be gay, where he’ll definitely meet someone else._

Promising never to see Justin again would definitely be part of the deal Austin would have to strike to return to his family.

It was so hard to pull it apart, the selfishness and the love. On the one hand, Justin was desperate to keep Austin with him – the first guy he’d ever kissed, ever been with, the only guy he ever wanted. On the other, he knew that couldn’t be his main concern. If Austin went back home and started trying to be something he wasn’t, it would mess him up for a long time – maybe forever. That was way worse than any breakup could ever be.

By the time Bobby got home, it was late enough that Grandpa, Elena and Aunt Betty were already in bed. Mom, thankfully, told Bobby about the whole thing without mentioning the sex, at least not in front of Justin; probably Bobby would be drafted to do the banana-condom thing later, which Justin felt like he could handle on any other day but this one.

And tonight, they gave him some space to be alone.

He sat on the back stoop well into the early hours, hands on his knees, waiting in vain. Sometimes Justin cried; sometimes he came close to falling asleep right there, with his head on his forearms. But he stayed out there, waiting.

Even if Austin didn’t come here tonight or ever again, he deserved to have someone in the world waiting for him to come home, no matter what.

As a faraway car alarm bleated through its pattern of sirens, Justin put his head down once more. It felt like his skull weighed a thousand pounds, like it was that diamond-encrusted one Jeff Koons made that time. Tomorrow he’d been planning on checking out the latest photography exhibit at the Met – with Austin – but it now seemed unlikely that he’d be doing anything besides trying to sleep. Maybe he’d get lucky and Grandpa wouldn’t wake him up with his stories …

“Hey.”

Justin looked up, startled, to see Austin standing in front of him. Austin’s hair was straggly, his face tear-streaked. His clothes looked as rumpled and badly tucked as they had this morning when they’d been caught. And yet he’d never looked more beautiful.

“Oh, my God,” Justin said. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Austin opened his mouth, couldn’t get words out, and shrugged. Finally he managed to say, voice tremulous, “I don’t know who my family is anymore.”

“We’re right here.” Justin held out his hand. When Austin took it, Justin led him inside and upstairs to his room – just to sleep, though Mom probably wouldn’t believe that in the morning. But when she gave them hell about it, she’d do it with love, and that would make the whole difference.

All that mattered was that Austin had come home.

**

It was easy enough to find Chaniel’s hotel; you could Google how to do a reverse trace on a phone number, and he’d left a contact number with the security desk.

Betty was relieved, also, to learn that his room was only on the third floor. Catburglar fantasies were all very hot, but plummeting several stories down to her death was decidedly un-hot.

Daniel managed to get them the room directly above Chaniel’s by bribing the guests there with a luxury penthouse suite, courtesy of Meade Publications.

Which meant the best date ever was definitely on.

“It’s kind of hot for black turtlenecks,” Daniel said inside the hotel room bathroom, where he was changing. They were closer now – hopefully soon to be as close as two people could be – but Betty didn’t want his first sight of her undressed to be the image of her wriggling into black yoga pants. “Are you sure we couldn’t try it with black T-shirts?”

“We have to have black all over!” she insisted. “Otherwise we’ll show up on security cameras.”

“If there even are security cameras, we’ll show up anyway.” The door muffled his voice.

“That’s not how the fantasy goes, okay?” Betty pulled her long hair out of her turtleneck and grabbed her glasses from the bedside table. “Ready!”

As Daniel stepped out, he said, “You know, all you had to say was fantasy.”

How did he make even a black turtleneck look good? His dark clothes hugged every line of his sculpted body, and the rogueish light in his eyes not only fit the fantasy perfectly but also made her aware that it was way, way too hot for turtlenecks. Really too hot even for clothes.

He leaned across the bed and kissed her – only a touch – but she caught his face in her hands and brought him in for a longer, deeper kiss. Daniel braced his arms on either side of her, leaning her back until she was off-balance, clinging to his shoulders. Maybe she should let go, so they’d fall back onto the bed together …

When they parted, Daniel whispered, “Are you sure we can’t skip the breaking-in part of the evening?”

“Positive.” Oh, God, she was already panting. Betty tried to collect herself. “I want your full attention.”

“You have it.”

“Until the next time we think about Chaniel. And he’s interfered with us for the last time.” Determined, Betty pushed Daniel back from her – just forceful enough to be playful – and relished the grin he gave her. Oh, when they finally worked all this out, they were going to have incredible fun. “All right. Let’s do this. Are you sure he’s out?”

“I asked Alexis to invite him for drinks. There’s no way he’d skip a chance to get to her – and, of course, he won’t get to her, because it’s Alexis. But Chaniel’s definitely gone for the next couple of hours.”

Which gave them ample opportunity to break in, get the paper, prove Chaniel was a liar and return to this room with plenty of time to fulfill her catburglar fantasy in every erotic detail. Excited, Betty went to the window, pushed it open and stared downward.

And kept staring.

“Betty?” Daniel came up behind her. “Are you freaking out about breaking the law? I still kind of can’t believe you suggested it.”

“It’s morally and legally appropriate to commit a small crime to stop someone else from committing a larger one,” she insisted. “But – it’s just – ”

“What?”

“The third floor is higher than it looks from the ground,” she said in a small voice.

“Uh. Yeah. It kind of is.” Daniel put one hand to his chin. “Hmmm.”

“You brought the rope ladder, right?”

“Yeah. Well, it’s a chain ladder – like an emergency fire escape kind of thing? But it should work.” Daniel pointed at the black duffel he’d carried along. “Says it can hold up to 400 pounds. So we’re solid.”

“Of course.”

“Right.”

They both looked out the window again, then pulled back at the same moment. Betty sighed. “Oh, my God, we’re the most chicken catburglars ever.”

“I’ve got an idea. Let’s go to the bed.”

“That’s – so hot, but it’s not the kind of idea that’s going to help us right now.”

Daniel laughed. “No, no. I mean – let’s get the mattress.”

The hotel mattress was incredibly heavy, and barely fit through the window, but they kept at it, working hard, shoving with their whole bodies side by side. “How – are we – going to get this – back in the room?” Betty gasped.

“We aren’t.” Daniel threw himself against it hard enough to move the mattress a few more inches.

“They’ll make us pay for it!”

“That’s the part of the plan that works because I’m rich,” Daniel said, giving the mattress one more shove that finally sent it tumbling to the ground.

They peered out the window to see that the mattress had indeed landed not far beneath them – close enough to cushion a fall if they took one. Betty brushed her now-sweaty hair back from her face. “Okay. Let’s do this thing.”

The chain ladder proved to clank loudly, but a fire engine came by, sirens wailing, at just the right moment to cover it. Daniel insisted on going down first. “That way I could catch you if something went wrong,” he said.

“Or if the ladder’s defective, you’ll take the fall.” Betty smiled at him. “You’re so brave.”

“I – hadn’t actually thought of the falling thing.”

They were quiet together for a moment, until she said, “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Although Daniel didn’t seem totally convinced, he started down the ladder. It held. He made his way down one story and pushed at the window – which, happily, proved not to be locked. Chaniel must have been eager for some cool breezes of his own earlier in the evening.

Weird, to think of him wanting something normal and natural, not evil. He couldn’t be totally evil, could he? Yes, it was awful what he was doing to Daniel and his family, but it wasn’t like Chaniel was a serial killer, Betty reasoned.

Then she thought, _that we know of. Oh, my God. What if Daniel’s going into the lair of a serial killer?_

Too late: Daniel called, “I’m in!”

“Not so loud!” she hissed.

“Sorry!” His voice was a stage whisper now. She could see his hands outstretched next to the chain ladder as it wavered slightly in the breeze. Beneath – still too far away – were the dirty back alley and the abandoned mattress. “Come on, Betty. I’ve got you.”

And that was all she had to hear. Betty took a deep breath and started down the ladder. It was shaky work at first, but within a few steps, she was close enough to Daniel for him to rest one reassuring hand against her calf. That made it easy to go the rest of the distance and get one arm around his neck so that he could tow her inside.

They tumbled back into Chaniel’s room together, flopping onto his bed. In that one moment, as they lay side by side in the dark, breathing hard from exertion, catburglar clothes on, Betty felt the line between fantasy and reality blur. This was a whole lot more awkward and dangerous than her dream had always been – but it was still incredibly hot.

“You make a handsome catburglar, Mr. Meade,” she whispered.

“And you make a very sexy thief.” Daniel leaned his face closer to hers – then paused. “Distractions. Bad during criminal activity.”

“Yes. Right. Let’s go.”

Immediately they started searching the room. As Betty had suspected, Chaniel hadn’t left anything as important as that fake note out on the desk. Daniel said, “What if he took it with him, to show Alexis?”

“Alexis would just rip it up,” Betty said. “He wouldn’t take it along. Bet you anything it’s in there.” With that, she pointed at the safe in the closet.

Daniel gave the safe’s door a quick tug; sure enough, it was in use and locked. “So how do we get in? I didn’t bring a welder’s torch.”

She gave him a loving, exasperated look. “We use the combination, silly.”

“But what’s the combination?”

“What does everybody use?” Betty folded her arms in satisfaction. “Their birthday.”

“We don’t know – oh, wait! We do!” Daniel leaned forward and punched in the digits of his own birthday; sure enough, the red sign on the door read OPENING.

As the gears whirred, Betty realized they’d have been out of luck if Chaniel had been lying about that part of the story – but then, maybe he was using his supposed birthday even here. To remind himself, so he wouldn’t slip up on the details.

Daniel opened the door and grinned in triumph as he pulled out the gray envelope. “Bingo.”

“Yes! We did it! We’re the best catburglars ever!” Betty started to clap her hands together before realizing that wasn’t exactly stealthy behavior. As Daniel ripped the sheet out the envelope and started to read, she leaned against his shoulder. “So, what is it? An ad from LADIES HOME JOURNAL?”

“It’s – it looks like – an actual DNA test. I mean, not that I know what one of those looks like, but there’s a whole lot of numbers and graphs and stuff –” His voice choked off.

Betty looked up at him, fear dawning inside. “Daniel? What does it say?”

He turned to her, stricken. “It says – it says he’s telling the truth.”

 

END

 

Tune in next time for “Show Me.”

 

(Songs From This Episode: “Destiny,” Zero 7; “Espionage,” Los Straitjackets; “Together,” The Kin)


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